Secret Time

It's 11:46, but I don't get that strange hopeful feeling I used to get at 11:46, or maybe it's later that that feeling starts. 2 or 3 am. It's the feeling of being up when no one else is and secretly doing important things.

You probably do something you wouldn't think of, you become incredibly intent.

I remember waking up before dawn, walking into a dim room and realizing I am the only one awake. I could do anything, and, discongruently, that feeling of all possibility ground down to a clear point of certain action. I take this newspaper, unfold it, refold it and put it back on the fireplace. There, relief. Because anything has been achieved. I follow my feet down the carpeted hall back to bed.

And once, late, late! The hours have passed and passed. I am inventing in a gallery with Bethany. I have observed our work as the hours passed and now at 3 in the morning I get the feeling of "secret time." Although I am not alone, it is late enough that I am alone regardless. The certainty of action I feel (that anything turned into something clear and necessary) distills a story that I write down. This story is intentional work that becomes apparent all on it's own. Because of it's natural ascension no listing or forcing parts is required. It is not hard work, it's of my soul. It requires me and I require it.

Like a red letter on a silver tray.

Happiness

My time with Americorps is over. It is sad in a reminiscent way but now I can lobby again, and make enough money not to qualify for food stamps... exciting times! I've stumbled into two new jobs, and although I searched fruitlessly and anxiously for months prior to finding them nothing could have been easier or more pleasant than the stumbling that happened just as my Americorps term came to an end.

With my first employer I share a name, a hometown, a birthday and the characteristic of having unusually bumpy thumbnails-- I believe that these coincidences helped me get the job at the herb store, that and my blind confidence.

For my second job I answered a craigslist add that described my skills with ridiculous precision. The one odd skill was "willingness to learn to handle a variety of animals, and show them to other people." The advertisement--although exact, never said just what the job was. I was asked for an interview and directed to the zoo. My interview was conducted amidst peacocks. I interpreted this as a good sign. I was asked back for a second interview and then offered the job-- which I now know is to travel around to schools in Albuquerque in a van that converts into a miniature museum (complete with plants and animals) that describes the ecosystems through which the Rio Grande travels. My particular responsibilities are to create and administer fun art projects.

So, Americorps has ended and new times are beginning in the desert. Just now it is raining and I am glad.